Witch's Daughter And The Devil's Son

By the time King Theron reached the royal palace, it was already sunrise and servants had started their respective duties for the day. The royal guards had just changed shifts, and the knights were just about to head to the training grounds for their morning training. All of them witnessed their king returning on a horse and were surprised to see his handsome appearance in a complete mess. His ceremonial clothes were stained to the point its original color could no longer be determined, and his hair was caked with dirt.

However, none of them dared meet his gaze. No, none of them could even breathe in his presence.

Suffocating.

The King of Megaris held no emotions on his face and he wasn’t doing anything in particular, yet his presence in itself made people feel suffocated.

Upon arriving at the King’s residence, he went straight to his chamber where his personal servant welcomed him. “Your Majesty—”

“No one is allowed to enter,” he said simply before slamming the door behind him.

The manservant was covered in cold sweat as he bowed, despite knowing that the King could no longer see him. For a second, he felt as if he had just escaped death.

When Sir Galien reached the hallway leading to the King’s chamber, he saw the pale-faced manservant shivering outside the door. He felt pity towards the man. “Is His Majesty inside?”

“Y-Yes, Sir Galien. The King is inside,” the servant informed with a stutter.

Sir Galien was about to knock on the door when the servant panicked. “You mustn’t! His Majesty, His Majesty wishes to be left alone. He ordered  to not let anyone enter.”

“I understand.”

Though Sir Galien wished to go to him, at this moment, he chose to respect his king’s desire to be left on his own.

——–

Sunlight entered her bedchamber through the small gaps between the curtains of the window.

With sparse clouds, the beautiful blue sky beyond those curtains seemed more vibrant than ever, as if to say the bad times were over and there were only good days ahead, yet none of those reached inside Esther’s bedchamber, which remained as dark and gloomy as her heart.

The young woman with honey blond hair  was sitting in bed, unmoving like a statue. Her smooth white skin was covered with marks, a painful reminder of the sinful night that passed. She didn’t want to move—no, she didn’t even want to breathe. She wished time would just stop, yet the world continued to move regardless of her will.

‘Theron…’

Seeing the sunlight peeking through her curtains, tears formed in her eyes. The short-lived pleasure of the night was over, and with morning came the reality she had to face—the reality that in order to save him, she had to lose him.

Time would flow, the sun would rise and set, again and again and again, but perhaps for Esther, she would be trapped in a night that would never end. The moment she accepted ‘him’, she had lost the person most precious to her.

Her Theron was gone.

It was still him, the same man she loved, but his heart was left with a scar that would never heal. Her entire body trembled just thinking of seeing him once she returned to the palace. She didn’t know how to face him, or whether she even deserved to face him after bringing him this much pain. Not only did she break her promise to him, but she also would now carry a child not his own. Even if all these were meant to save him from eternal damnation—

“Don’t forgive me, Theron…You must never forgive me…”

Her shoulders continued to tremble as hot tears trailed down her face continuously.

A heavy, low baritone of a man’s voice reached her ears.

‘Evanthe….’

It was a voice she both yearned for yet hated at the same time, the very voice of the man who shared the night with her.

With a sob, she covered her ears with her hand.

‘Don’t call my name…I beg you…’

‘Evanthe…’

The mark on her wrist shone. Esther looked at it with anger, and she used her other hand to scratch it, as if to get rid of it. However, even if she were to inflict harm on her body, it would heal in a matter of seconds.

It was a mark that would remain on her for eternity. Another reminder of the cursed destiny she was forced to bear.

‘No more…I have lost so many things because of you…no more…’

She climbed down the bed but felt like her legs were not her own, telltale signs how they had lost their strength completely. Her silent cries turned into full sobs as she cried her heart out. Helplessly, she clutched the white ceremonial dress that was left on the floor, wanting to tear it into pieces.

‘I don’t deserve you, Theron…I thought I would just go through it as if I can’t feel anything but…but he is my soulmate and…I…I gave into him…and I…felt pleasure.’

She buried her face in her palms and continued to sob, crying in shame.

‘I could not stop having those feelings for him…I could not reject him…I could not resist his touch…I am sorry, Theron…I can never forgive myself for this…so you should never forgive me as well…’

She stared at her hands, and out of nowhere, a small knife appeared in her hand. She held it tightly, and without hesitation, she cut the side of her wrist which had that cursed flower mark. Red blood oozed out of the wound, but it healed immediately and that flower mark remained intact without a single flaw.

The bitter laugh that escaped her lips sounded more painful than her cries.

She had tried many ways to get rid of it, not just now but even before, but every time she would fail and this was no different. She remembered the words that someone had said to her.

‘This flower is a mark of destiny. This mark will remain yours until the destined time comes for you to pass it on… You can only get rid of it when you meet that person who will need it to fulfil their destiny. When that time comes, when you meet that person, you will know.

‘Until that time comes, you are the owner of this mark. It will be a constant reminder of who you are and the great cause you represent. Your existence and the destiny you carry are for the future of this world so never try to run away from it. Be strong and be proud, because, with this mark, your existence has become an instrument for the great cause of saving this world.’

Her younger self didn’t know how she would help protect this world, but she felt the pride to have such a sacred mission. For more than a century, she had been wandering everywhere, trying to fulfil that responsibility,  but she could never find anyone she could pass this flower to, the destined one who would need it.

And now, Esther didn’t even have the will to live, much less find the true owner of the mark.